


Walking on Broken Glass

by lizwas



Series: Mouthful of Forevers [2]
Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Post-Season/Series 05 AU, it's loving the Humphreys hours, kinda sorta dair, spoiler alert: neither of them are over it, this started as a dair au and now it's grown into a large character study and I aint mad, this work of fanfiction is a carrier bag and I am putting everything in it, wholly self-indulgent au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwas/pseuds/lizwas
Summary: For the first time in almost a year, Dan returns to visit his friends and family on the East Coast.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nate Archibald/Original Female Character(s), Rufus Humphrey/Lily van der Woodsen
Series: Mouthful of Forevers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148195
Comments: 21
Kudos: 14





	1. Let the wind blow through me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! 
> 
> I gotta say, in an au I've constructed to be terribly self-indulgent, this may be the most so far. GG has so many characters that appear briefly, then are never heard from again, and so my imagination latches onto them like, "huh, wonder what this person who was really important for three episodes is up to?" which is basically how this chapter got written. 
> 
> The work and chapter title are from the Annie Lennox song "Walking on Broken Glass," which, despite being a devastating song about heartbreak, is also a BOP. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dan elects to fly into Boston, to ease back into America by starting his trip with his easygoing older brother, and then take a train down to New York later. His welcoming committee at Logan International consists only of Scott and his girlfriend Carly. They had, mercifully, decided to forgo any and all embarrassing name signs, though Dan is sure Jenny made the suggestion. 

“This is a nice surprise,” Dan says brightly, greeting them each with a hug. “I could have just taken a cab, you know.” 

Carly shakes her head emphatically, “Absolutely not, and you should count yourself honored, I don’t use my rare and precious days off for just anybody.” 

Carly is a surgical resident at the Brigham, and thus customarily works long and grueling shifts. It’s how she and Scott met; Dan remembers hearing the story of how Scott had to escort his drunken idiot of a roommate to the ER on St. Patrick’s Day, and the gorgeous redhead who’d had to stitch up his drunken idiot of a roommate. 

“Oh but I will,” Scott chimes in, “I will use any excuse to skip out of work, so don’t go thinking you’re that special.” 

Scott works in the in-house art department for a major craft store chain as a graphic designer. He is definitely the biological son of Rufus Humphrey, for he hates working for such a corporate entity, but he’s staying on to build up his portfolio until he can jump ship to a publishing house, or maybe even a music label. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Dan says with fake solemnity, before breaking into a grin. _This is good_ , he thinks, the tension that had been gathering in his spine since take-off eases, _being here is good_. 

“Okay,” Carly claps her hands together, “You’ve just been on a transatlantic flight so I can only imagine how desperate you are for a decent cup of coffee.” 

Dan places a hand over his heart. “You know me so well.” 

The couple promises that they have a full itinerary planned, but once caffeinated, they swing by Scott’s place first, so Dan can drop his bags off where he’s staying for the night. 

“Whoa, this is different,” Dan exclaims as he enters his brother’s apartment. The image of the place in his mind from his stay over the holidays was gone. The walls and shelves had been stripped bare, and cardboard boxes were stacked every which way. 

“Yeah,” Scott admits, scratching at the back of his neck, “you may have caught us in the middle of a move.” 

Dan raises his eyebrows, his eyes flit between the two of them. “Oh you’re moving in together now?” he asks teasingly. 

“Surprise!” his brother answers, adding a half-hearted attempt at jazz hands for effect. 

“Yeah, the perks of having a real estate agent for a mom is that you get first dibs on the affordable two bedrooms,” Carly says with a grin. “We did want to host you at our new place, but we couldn’t get it ready in time because both our work schedules are an unholy mess right now.” 

“Mostly hers,” quips Scott, earning him a thump on the chest from his girlfriend. 

“Well, no need to stand on ceremony with me. I’m going to my mom’s tomorrow, and she’s in the middle of renovating so there is a good chance that I’ll be staying in an actual construction zone.” 

“That is very sweet of you to say, Dan,” Carly answers, “but we don’t have any furniture there yet, and as a medical professional I cannot in good conscience let you sleep on the floor.” 

“Thankfully the Hippocratic oath does allow for a pull-out couch,” Scott adds. “Now, go freshen up, because we are taking you to lunch and then fighting your jet lag with all the Boston tourist sites that it was too cold to see the last time you were here.” 

“Oh no,” Dan says, “you don’t mean…” 

“Freedom trail, baby!” his brother crows. 

The couple start Dan’s tour of Boston with their favorite weekend (or whenever Carly gets a day off) tradition: dim sum. The conversation between them flows easily, as it always does between the two brothers. Carly, who is a music enthusiast in her own right, holds her own in the discussion, and to Dan’s surprise has just as much interest and knowledge in the rock, indie, and punk bands that take up most of his and Scott’s discourse. She is also a staunch defender of other female performers, and is unafraid to press her own points. 

“Kesha and Taylor Swift are _good_ , you’ve just been conditioned to think not because you’re _men_ ,” she asserts, gesturing with her chopsticks for emphasis. “If Jenny were here she’d agree with me.” 

Scott does text Jenny for confirmation, which she wholeheartedly gives: _You boys should listen to **Cannibal** and let yourself experience joy._

Then, Scott’s phone rings, setting off a round of grumbling from Dan’s brother that is unrelated to any pop singers. 

Carly watches him react to the call with amusement. “Okay, babe?” 

He lets out a melodramatic groan. “My project manager is incompetent. Sorry, I have to take this,” he steps out, leaving Dan and Carly at the table. 

Dan notices her studying him with the same good humor she’d had for Scott a few minutes ago. “What is it?” he asks. 

“Oh nothing,” she shrugs, “I just see the family resemblance is all.” 

He tilts his head in confusion. 

“You and Scott have the same serious expression,” she demonstrates what he hopes is an exaggerated impression. “I call it his ‘pensive face.’” 

He laughs, “It can’t be _that_ bad.” 

She shrugs and rocks her hand back and forth in a gesture that would suggest otherwise. “Come on, Daniel, what’s on your mind?” she asks while reaching for another potsticker. 

“Okay well, first of all, please don’t call me Daniel, you sound like a frightening combination of my boss and stepmother.” She laughs. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, “this trip...it’s the first time I’ve been to New York in nearly a year. Is it weird to feel nervous about visiting home?” 

She hums in understanding, “I get that. I went to Northwestern for undergrad, and coming back home to Boston always felt weird—like I had to reconcile two different versions of myself.” 

“Fuck, that’s heavy.” 

She chuckles, “Yup.” 

“But you still moved back.” 

“And I’m glad I did,” she smiles wide, “but going away was the right thing to do at the time, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Dan nods, “I’m starting to think maybe...staying after high school was a mistake, like I should have left New York sooner.” 

She gasps in exaggerated horror, “But then you wouldn’t have met Scott at NYU, and you and I wouldn’t be having this fervent emotional conversation in a Chinese restaurant 4 blocks from Fenway Park.” 

He throws his head back in laughter just as Scott is returning to the table. 

“Did I miss anything good?” he asks. 

“Oh nothing,” Carly answers, “just the existential questions of identity and potential alternate timelines.” 

“Oh so, normal dim sum conversation,” Scott shoots back, settling back into the booth and throwing an arm around her shoulders. 

“Pretty much,” she says as she smiles up at him. 

After lunch, they take Dan on the afore-threatened historical tour down the freedom trail, supplemented by their anecdotes of repeated school field trips, like the time in sixth grade when Scott was victorious in an epic game of hide-and-seek in the Boston Commons, or how in middle school, a boy had been so mean to her little sister that Carly pushed him into Boston Harbor. When Dan gives her a look that’s an even mixture of respect, incredulity, and fear, Carly just shrugs and says, “Catholic school, dude.” 

Scott and Carly, to their credit, make Dan feel like a third wheel only about 20% of the time. They are sweet with each other, and complete goofs (as evidenced by their attempt to photograph Dan in a tri-cornered hat in front of the Old North Church), but they orbit around each other with the ease of a couple that has been together for a long time, and plans to stay that way. 

They are so light-hearted, so refreshingly normal, and stable, that Dan feels brighter just from being around them. And maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit jealous. 

Carly takes off for work early the next morning, her day off from the hospital over too soon, so the brothers have breakfast at the diner down the block, just the two of them, before Scott drops Dan off at the bus stop. 

“Give my love to Lily and Rufus, okay?” 

“Of course,” Dan promises, and pulls his brother in for a hug. 

Dan had spent most of his life as the constant to girls: the big brother, the best friend, the boyfriend. Though he came into Dan’s life in the most unconventional and convoluted way possible, Dan is really glad to have found a brother and a friend in Scott. And—over the past year especially—Dan has come to rely on him as a steady and levelling presence in the tumult of his life, a source of unconditional love and support, not all dissimilar to the way he relies on Jenny and Eric. 

Yeah, coming to Boston first was a good choice. His next stop however, gives him pause. 

There is a short and long explanation each as to why Dan is taking a bus down to Cape Cod to see his mother, rather than to Hudson. 

The short explanation is this: after Jenny had moved out of the house Alex (also known as Neighbor Guy) proposed, and spooked Alison so much that she decided to quit Hudson and Alex entirely, landing her in New England. 

The long explanation begins over a dozen years ago, back when Dan was little. After Rufus had stopped touring, and Jenny was in preschool, Alison decided that she wanted to go back to school, to finish her art degree. There was only one other married mom in her class at SUNY, Tess, and the two women banded together in solidarity and became close friends. She and her 3 kids were a constant in the lives of the Humphreys until Tess’s own divorce, and her subsequent relocation to Massachusetts. 

So, when Alison fled Hudson, she went to her friend Tess. The two women were now both divorcées with children who were grown and didn’t need them anymore, and as a result, they were both feeling a little lost, and in need of some new artistic inspiration. 

New inspiration came to them in the form of a real estate listing, for an old, dilapidated fixer-upper just outside of Cape Cod. With both of them deep in the throes of a post-breakup independent-women kick, Alison and Tess pooled their savings, bought the place, and got to work. 

Alison had delivered all of these developments to Dan and Jenny via FaceTime that fall, shortly after he had moved to London. Maybe she thought that her kids taking such spontaneous life changing steps across the ocean meant she could get away with a few of her own. Which is fair, Dan supposed, though if anything, they learned it from her. Dan also supposed that this trip would be as good a time as any to see his mom’s new home and new project, now that a few months’ work had made it habitable for Alison, Tess, and a guest or two. 

About halfway through the bus trip, Dan realizes that this is perhaps the first time since the divorce when he’ll see his mother alone, just the two of them, with no Jenny in between. It causes a flare of anxiety in him, because just as Jenny relied on Dan to soften the blunt-edged stubbornness that she and Rufus share, Dan relied on her to smooth over the barbed wire of him and his mom. He and Alison both had sharp tongues that could be lethal when they were hurt. And after she left...there had been a lot of hurt. 

When he’d departed for the airport, Jenny had sent him off with a chiding “ _Be nice._ ” Dan had thought she was referencing the people the two of them had left behind in New York City, but now he isn’t so sure. 

When he arrives, Alison greets him with a wide smile and a hug. He hugs his mother back, a little bit stiffly, and when he pulls away he can sense that she is also feeling a touch anxious. They both keenly feel the absence of Jenny. 

After they exchange the normal pleasantries, and he’s answered her questions about school, work, and Jenny, Alison launches into a monologue about how she’s glad he’s come to visit, how much Tess is looking forward to seeing him, and how she’s so excited to show him the house and the work they’re doing. 

“... _Not_ that I’m expecting you to contribute free labor, but if you want you can help us demo this space we want to turn into a studio. Again, don’t feel obligated, but it is very cathartic...” 

Dan definitely inherited his nervous babbling from his mother. 

The house is a huge, old Victorian-meets-cottage-by-the-sea monstrosity. After living his entire life in two of the largest, most densely populated cities in the world, Dan is still bewildered that people actually live in homes this big. His mom shows him to his room (one of the finished ones), which also doubles as her studio/workspace. But other than the drafting table taking up one wall, the room is actually very cozy, and has a stunning view of the bay in the distance. It’s obvious to Dan how much care Alison and Tess have put into the place. 

Alison leaves him for a moment to get settled, and he pokes about the room, taking some time to study what his mom has been working on and left on the drafting table. His eye spots something vaguely familiar-looking. He shoves aside the sketches and other ephemera to get a better look, and sees a photo spread from _Vogue UK_ and his name printed below, poking out of a manila folder. He opens it, curious, and finds a collection of every byline he’s had since Epperly hired him, carefully cut out and saved, like his parents used to do when he and Jenny were little, cataloging every drawing, essay, spelling test, or gold star. No achievement was too small to be celebrated. 

He’s still flipping through the folder when Alison comes back in to check on him. 

“You kept these?” he asks, disbelief coloring his voice. 

“Of course I did,” she answers matter-of-factly, “you wrote them.” 

Dan doesn’t know what to say. 

“But,” she continues, “I did take issue with that last film review you did. Don’t you think it was a _little_ harsh?” she challenges playfully. 

“Umm, excuse me, the premise was completely derivative.” 

“Okay, but isn’t everything? Since when did you get so pretentious?” 

“Pot, meet kettle!” he throws back, eliciting a peal of laughter from his mother. 

“Come on, sweets,” she pats him on the back, “let’s give you the full tour.” 

She and Tess give him a full tour of the property, not only of the house, which they’ve made significant progress on in the past year, but also the surrounding grounds. They tell Dan about their plans for a vegetable garden next to the back porch, and their wishes to renovate the above-garage apartment and guest house so that other artists can retreat and work here as well. 

Dan sees how animated his mother is in this space, in this life she is building for herself, and he thinks—not for the first time—how glad he is that Neighbor Guy is no longer around. 

They also tell him about some of the other work they’ve been doing in the area. Tess and Alison are both represented in a gallery nearby, and can count on a few sales during the tourist seasons. And, they also found a pretty steady stream of income in offering art classes to the old, rich blue-blooded ladies that vacation in the area. 

“Oh, no, you’re not talking about one of those classes where you give them a brush and a box of wine, and then just turn them loose on a still life, are you?” Dan asks. 

“Hey, drinking and painting is a time-honored artistic tradition,” his mother jokes. “And those classes paid for this kitchen, I’ll have you know.” 

Over dinner, they try to rope Tess into their debate over the aforementioned film review, but she refuses to bite. (“No thank you, I’m still recovering from the great Oscars debate during Thanksgiving 2004.”) 

After dinner, Dan attempts to help with the cleanup, but the women just shoo him out, insisting that he is a guest, and guests, especially those on vacation, are exempted from dish duty. So, he elects to go out to the back porch, enjoying the quiet after the hubbub of traveling for the past couple days. 

Dan is still sitting on the back porch steps when his mom comes out to join him, a beer in each hand. 

“So, what do you think?” she asks. 

“It’s great Mom, really,” he takes the bottle she offers him. “I half expect to see a herd of farm animals coming around the corner.” 

“Well, I would get a cat,” she says as she plops down on the porch next to him, “but I want your sister to at least have the option of coming to visit.” 

He chuckles, “I think she’d like it here.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “but remember that your children are city people, the peace and quiet will definitely freak us out.” 

“If it makes you feel better I’ll walk around in the middle of the night banging on the pots and pans.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” 

She laughs, then nudges his arm. “I’ve missed you, kid. Having you a train ride away is one thing, but a whole ocean definitely sucks.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch up, “I missed you too, but, I had to leave.” He picks at the label on the bottle, an old nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. 

Alison studies him for a moment. “She really broke your heart, huh?” 

Dan opens his mouth to answer, but his throat is suddenly too tight to form any words. 

“Oh, honey,” his mom puts her arm around him, and he lets his head fall onto her shoulder, like he’s fifteen again, feeling the twin pains of love and rejection for the first time. “You’ll be okay,” she says soothingly, kissing the top of his head. “You are the best man that I know. I wish I could take credit for it, but I don’t think I can.” 

“It’s not like you to give Dad any credit.” 

“Oh I don’t, you just came that way.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “I don’t know about that,” He clears his throat, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” 

“You are allowed to make mistakes, Dan,” his mom says, “as long as you’re still you, and trying to learn from them.” 

He nods, still nestled against his mom’s shoulder. She presses another kiss in his hair, and they sit there, still, watching the sun set over the trees. 

Dan’s two days in Cape Cod pass quickly, but they allow him to really reconnect with his mom. They talk, they cook, they paint, and at her invitation, he even helps them demo the old guest house they want to turn into a studio. It is as cathartic as Alison promised it would be. 

He doesn’t expect everything between him and his mom to be fixed over the course of one weekend, but he does feel like he understands her a bit better now, understands how you can only realize how unhappy you were in one place after you leave it for a while. 

And, as far as places to settle go, Dan has to admit that Cape Cod is a pretty good choice. The house and the wilderness around it are beautiful, and the nearby sea seems to heighten everything close to it. Another remarkable quality of the cape is that Dan can see the stars from here. 

Looking up at the night sky puts a lump in his throat. Being the city-dweller that he is, being able to see the stars was an experience exclusive to family camping trips, back when family had meant _the four of us_. Now, his family is exponentially larger, but feels so much more fractured, a mosaic of puzzle pieces he’s not sure how to fit together. He’s figuring it out, though. 

The morning he leaves, his mom insists on driving him back up to the train station in Boston, so he lets her. On some level he knows it’s because she wants to do something for him, something motherly, and Dan, well, there’s a childish part of him that relishes being taken care of, after keeping his distance for so long. 

“Say hi to the MOMA for me,” she says as she hugs him goodbye. 

“I will,” he laughs, before letting go and walking into the station. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I am trying to do regular updates for this fic, but I am also currently working on another au (which I am really really excited to share!) so updates may be more spaced out.


	2. Sometimes I wonder for a while

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan returns to New York City and has a few heart-to-hearts.
> 
> _Spotted: A Lonely Boy arriving at Grand Central Station._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! In contrast to the previous chapter, there are many familiar faces in this one. 
> 
> Making characters have honest, heartfelt conversations is my favorite thing.

Dan feels a wave of deja vu as he walks through Grand Central Station. Of course, he has done this before: returned to New York City by train after visiting his mom, after a weekend of observing her new life and wondering just how the hell he fit into it. Now, though, he’s a little older and wiser—and less angry—and he knows that his mom’s life is always open to him, he just wasn’t able to see it before. 

He scans the crowd, wondering if this deja vu means that his dad will be here waiting for him, when he hears a familiar voice call his name. 

“Dan Humphrey!” It’s Lily’s assistant, in her usual uniform: tailored pants, sharply cut blazer, and smartphone in hand. She's also flanked by a station porter. 

“Larissa, hi,” Dan answers, trying and failing to hide his confusion.

“Your parents are sorry they couldn’t be here to greet you, Rufus got stuck working at the studio, and Lily was pulled into a last minute meeting,“ she explained. “But, I have a car waiting for us and I can set you up with a key to the penthouse for your stay.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, Larissa, but really, I’m fine taking a cab. I’m sure you must have other stuff—”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she cuts him off with a smile that Dan knows better than to question. “Tony here can take your bags,” she gestures to the porter. 

“Okay, um, thank you,” Dan hands his luggage over to Tony, if only to avoid Larissa shooting him that terrifying grin again. 

Once Larissa’s finally set him up at the van der Humphrey residence, Dan lets out a sigh of relief to be left alone. He pokes idly around the penthouse, he had forgotten just how huge it was, how luxurious this much space could feel. 

He wanders upstairs, to his dad’s “office,” figuring he can kill some time with some music. The room is surprisingly organized, Lily’s doing, he assumes. As he studies the shelves, he sees that Lily has had all of his dad’s old fake books and loose-leaf tabs and lead sheets bound. And alphabetized. Dan is impressed. He plucks a book off the shelf, and shuffles through the pages until a familiar title catches his eye. 

His mom had played him a bootleg of the Jeff Buckley performance of this song at St. Ann’s, back when he was just beginning learning how to play himself, when he was still small enough to squeeze into the old armchair with her next to the record player, their own ritual. 

“Now this,” she had declared after scolding Jenny to hush her sewing machine, “is what artistry sounds like.”

Dan sets the book down, still open, then turns to the guitar collection, and is immediately overwhelmed. Lily bought guitars the way other wives bought greeting cards, but soon enough he spies Rufus’ old Washburn, the same instrument he learned to play on.

He sits down, checks the tuning, and then plays through the progressions on the page, reacquainting himself with the song, before he finally lets himself be lost in the chords and poetry.

"Once I was a soldier…"

It isn’t until after he sings the last line that he realizes he isn’t alone. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Lily apologizes from her post in the doorway, “I was just enjoying the music.”

“Oh, I - um,” Dan stutters, feeling caught out, “I hope you don’t mind, no one was around, so…”

She shakes her head, “Not at all,” she assures him. “You’re very good, you know,” she adds with a smile.

“Thank you,” he chuckles self consciously, moving to set the instrument aside, “that’s high praise, I know you’ve seen every band of the ‘90s worth talking about, and many more not worth talking about.”

Lily laughs, and moves further into the room. “True, but that doesn’t change that you’re very talented. And your father has not stopped talking about how excited he is to see you playing again. He watches that video you and Jenny made him for Christmas all the time.”

The video they’d sent was a Fleetwood Mac cover. Jenny had cajoled him into it, promising that she would do all the vocals (“Stevie Nicks is my Patronus after all”), until she tricked him into playing and singing mid-recording. He’d been reluctant to admit it in the face of her deviousness, but they did sound pretty fucking good. But just to be safe, they had sent the email with a _PLEASE, do not post this on the internet._

Dan laughs half-heartedly, “I’m glad. I mean,” he qualifies with a tilt of his head, “that’s a little bit mortifying, but I’m glad he enjoyed it.”

Lily’s expression turns serious, as she moves to sit down on the couch next to him, “I want to thank you, Daniel. What you said last year...your delivery may have been a tad harsh... but you were right. Now I know it shouldn’t be the kid’s job to hold us parents to task, but I’m grateful for it anyways.”

Dan clears his throat. “Well at least let me say, for the record, I’m sorry I spoke so harshly.”

“You’re forgiven,” she smiles kindly at him, and reaches over to pat his hand. “And, just so you know, you are always welcome here.”

He nods, touched. 

“Now,” Lily says, lightening her tone, “I suspect you probably already have plans for your first night in the city, but we were planning on taking Grimaldi’s down over to the loft, if you want to join us and Panic for dinner?”

“Thank you, but I already made plans with Nate. I am finally going to meet the famous Addison.” 

“Oh, good, well she is a lovely girl,” Lily replies, ever the society matron, “But if you get away early, I know your father is eager to see you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dan says with a smile. “Save some garlic knots for me, just in case?”

“Absolutely,” his stepmother promises. 

Dan heads out to meet Nate and his fiance early. They had planned to meet at a place close to the couple’s new apartment on the Upper West Side, so Dan decides to take the scenic route through Central Park. For a city that holds so many people, he is still frightfully nervous that he will run into someone that he is not ready to see. 

But, to his relief, Dan doesn’t run into any familiar faces until he’s arrived at the restaurant, and sees his best friend waiting to greet him. 

He recognizes Nate’s fiance, Addison, from the photos Nate had shared over the past few months, and from the ones Jenny had shown him after a bout of internet stalking (“What, just because you’re Gossip Girl sober doesn’t mean I can’t look"). She’s much prettier—and taller—in person, and undeniably pregnant, as evidenced by her six-month belly.

“I feel like I know you already,” she greets him warmly.

“Oh, well, don’t believe everything you hear,” Dan jokes nervously. 

“Only from my trusted sources,” she promises, glancing up at Nate with a grin.

Nate waits until they’re seated to tease him about the beard. 

“What the hell is this?” he asks, making a stroking gesture towards his chin. 

Dan shrugs, “Just felt like something different. I’m allowed aren’t I?”

Nate turns to his fiance. “Do you think I could pull that off?”

“Oh, sweetie, no,” she answers, “blonde men should not have beards.”

Dan nods gravely. “The lady is right.”

Nate’s eyes narrow as he points between the two of them. “I don’t know how I feel about this dynamic.”

Addison kisses him on the cheek. “Too bad.”

Up until this point, Dan has only gotten to know Addison by information passed on by Nate, or snippets of conversation through the phone, so he appreciates the opportunity to actually get to know the woman his best friend is starting a family with. She talks about growing up in San Francisco, how her dad jumped from the engineering faculty at Stanford to Silicon Valley, her time studying at Princeton, and her work in arts administration at Lincoln Center. 

“Meet anyone famous yet?” Dan asks.

“There have been a few classical music bigwigs, but not much so far, I’m not high enough on the totem pole yet.” She grins. “My mother is obsessed with Audra McDonald though, so that’s the celebrity we’re holding out for.” She and Nate each hold up a pair of crossed fingers, and Dan laughs at their synchronicity.

After a while, Addison has to excuse herself for a moment (“Excuse me boys, being pregnant means that I have to pee like a racehorse”), leaving the two old friends alone at the table. 

“So,” Nate begins, “what do you think?” 

“She’s great,” Dan answers. “Smart, funny, beautiful, definitely out of your league.” 

Nate laughs, “So she gets the Daniel Humphrey seal of approval?”

“I don’t think it carries that much weight,” Dan qualifies, “But, yes. Yeah, you both seem really great together.”

Nate smiles, the relief that floods his features indicating Dan’s opinion mattered more than he thought. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course,” Dan nods, “How are you doing? Really?”

“I’m great. Honestly, I feel like I should be asking you that.”

Dan’s brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t follow.”

Nate looks at him flatly, then pulls out his phone. “You were on Gossip Girl today,” he explains, holding out his phone for Dan to read the blast he’d just pulled up. 

> _Spotted: A Lonely Boy arriving at Grand Central Station. D’s been living in exile ever since our favorite ex-princess gave him the slip. Do S and B know their former flame is back in town? I can’t wait to see who burns up first. XOXO._

“Wow,” Dan says, “it’s profound how much I haven’t missed those things.”

“So, you’re really okay? Not planning to stir up any trouble?” Nate asks. 

“No. No, you know I don’t even follow that shit anymore.” Nate is still looking at him curiously, so Dan continues, “I’m not planning on doing anything here, except maybe avoid a death by Bisquick, courtesy of my dad.”

Dan is saved from this line of interrogation when Addison returns to the table. She starts one of her own, but it is much more pleasant. 

“So, you’re a senior, like Nate?”

“Yeah at NYU, I transferred to the UK campus this fall.”

“Any thoughts on what you’re doing next?” she asks.

Dan nods, “I applied to a grad program at Oxford. I’m waiting to hear back. Actually, it’s probably a good thing that I took this trip, or else I would be obsessively hovering around the mailbox, driving my sister crazy.” 

Nate nods sagely. “I figured that you only came because Jenny kicked you out of the house.” Dan flicks a crouton at him.

“So, are you applying for creative writing?” Addison asks, still curious, and politely heading off any more friendly fire. 

“Yeah,” Dan affirms, “my boss put me in touch with one of the faculty and I really like her. Anita Kingston.”

Addison perks up in recognition. “Oh my god I love her, I read her at Princeton. She wrote this fantastic piece about Marquez and Allende—“

“Oh please no Marquez,” Nate groans.

“Nathaniel,” Dan chides, “you tried to read _Cholera_ once when you were 16, it may be time to give him a second chance.”

“Absolutely not,” he refuses. 

“It’s okay, babe,” Addie says soothingly, “Gabriel is a little dense, we’ll ease you in with some _House of the Spirits_.”

Nate grumbles at Dan, “Figures that the first time you visit in months you give me _homework_.”

Dan raises his glass in a mock toast. 

Lily’s suggestion turns out to be prophetic. Addie, well into her second trimester, is not one for staying out too late, so she and Nate take their leave early enough that Dan thinks he has plenty of time to head across the city and over the bridge to Brooklyn.

After Dan had left, the Brooklyn loft was officially vacant, an empty space that neither Lily nor Rufus knew what to do with, but were reluctant to get rid of. But, as Rufus continued producing for his friend’s label, he had the idea of keeping the loft to house bands. When he was on the road all those years ago, Rufus and the guys of Lincoln Hawk slept on many a floor, hosted by a network of friends and fellow musicians all over the country, and now, he had the opportunity to offer the same to the young, up and coming bands travelling in from out of town to record in New York City. And so, with Rufus’ enthusiasm and Lily’s impeccable hostessing and interior design skills, the artist’s-loft-turned-family-home got a new life once again as a landing pad for bright-eyed, aspirational artists. 

This week, the loft’s occupants were Rufus’ first producing clients: the four guys who made up Panic, back in the city to record their second studio album. Dan had met them two years ago when his dad first worked with them. They were good guys, a couple years older than Dan, skilled with excellent taste in music, and so Dan didn’t mind relinquishing the loft to them, or spending his first night back in New York with them either. 

It feels a little surreal, getting out of the cab at Water St., walking up the steps, taking the elevator up to his old home for the first time in nearly a year. It feels too similar and too different all at the same time. 

But then he pushes the door open to see his father’s face light up at the sight of him, and he thinks that it’s good that some things never change. 

Rufus hugs him tightly, and it suddenly hits Dan just how much he’s missed his dad. 

“It’s good to see you, son,” Rufus says in a low voice.

Dan’s eyes squeeze shut. “You too, Dad.”

Rufus releases him and claps him on the shoulder. “Come on in, it’s a party,” he says with a smile. 

The rest of the night passes in good company. The guys of Panic: Patrick, Matt, Joe, and Brendan, are fun to hang out with, even if they do get a little pushy when they find out that Dan plays music too. 

“One cover, just one cover, please.” 

“Nah, I’m good.”

“How about this: permission to show your Christmas video in the studio tomorrow?” Rufus offers.

Dan holds up his beer bottle, pausing in consideration, “Granted. But be advised: Dad is the one with the killer Lindsey Buckingham impression.”

Lily gasps, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot about that. I remember in Chicago in ‘86…”

Rufus and Lily have finally found a balance. They still have nights when they are a grand Manhattan society couple, with Lily serving as a socialite pillar of the community with her husband on her arm. But now they also have nights like this, when they are the rock n’ roll couple eating pizza with Rufus’ clients in Brooklyn, the both of them swapping stories from when they were working on the road. Musicians like the guys in Panic (the kind that Rufus worked with the most) cut their teeth on the music and bands of Rufus and Lily’s heyday, so they are always a captive audience to the couple’s stories. 

After years of tiptoeing into each other’s worlds, they have learned that they can exist in both. Dan doesn’t think he has ever seen the two of them so happy, and he is beyond grateful for it (and grateful that he will have a positive report to give Jenny when he gets back).

It’s late when the Humphreys leave the loft for the night, with the band insistently inviting Dan to sit in on their sessions while he’s in the city. He thinks he may just take them up on it, if only to spend a little more time with his dad. 

When morning comes, Dan sees that his worry of death by waffles is not as hyperbolic as it sounded. Finally having a kid to cook for after so many months may have caused Rufus to go a little overboard. 

“It’s not too much, is it?” Dan’s dad asks, spatula in hand. 

Dan winces, and holds up his thumb and forefinger, “Maybe a little bit?”

Rufus sighs, a little sheepish. “Well, we should at least try to eat some of it, don’t you think?”

Dan claps his father on the back, “Works for me.”

The two men tuck in. Lily had stepped out for an early morning meeting, leaving the two time to really catch up before Rufus had to head into the studio. Dan delivers his reports on Jenny and Scott, and his dad asks him all about his life in London: school, job, the grad school application Dan is trying not to dwell on, and, of course, his love life. And because it’s Rufus, Dan is unable to escape some unsolicited fatherly advice. 

“How’s that guy you’ve been seeing, anything serious?”

“Oh, god no,” Dan almost chokes on his waffle. “No, I think I am done with serious for a little while.”

His dad nods, but his face stays fixed in a mask of concern. 

“What?” Dan asks. 

“Nothing,” Rufus says mildly. “You’re in your 20s, you’re allowed to not be serious.”

“But?” Dan prods. 

“Look, I know you went through a lot last year, just...when the real thing comes again, don’t close yourself off to it.”

Dan promises with a nod. Then he says, less seriously, “You've really missed doling out advice haven’t you?”

His dad laughs. “Yup. Brace yourself, kid, I have to get in my quota while you’re here.”

Rufus takes off to the studio after breakfast, but not without reminding Dan of Panic’s standing invitation to him to come by. It’s tempting, to be sure, but Dan leaves the penthouse soon after, taking the six down to spend sometime in Brooklyn. 

Dan spends the rest of the morning and early afternoon visiting his old haunts. Prospect Park, his favorite coffee shop & record stores, and his beloved used bookstore down on 16th Ave.

When he gets back to the penthouse, he nearly runs right into Lily.

“Oh, Daniel,” she exclaims, “I’m glad I caught you. Sorry, I have to dash out again to get my hair done for this gala tonight—are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I think staying away from the fancy parties while I’m here is a good idea. Just..trying to head off as much awkwardness as I can.”

“Ah, very well,” Lily says briskly, “Well in the meantime, feel free to call me or Larissa or your father if you need anything.”

He nods, and Lily lets him go with an air kiss on the cheek. 

When the elevator dings shut, Dan sets up camp on the couch with his laptop. After a few hours spent both in Brooklyn and the Upper East Side, Dan was itching to write some more on his new novel.

Dan actually does manage to write, and without any distractions of any kind, he churns out a decent chunk of Caroline Hendricks’ story over the course of the afternoon. A part of him is pleasantly surprised he managed to be so productive—he had worried that the whir of Jenny’s sewing machine had become essential to his process. His ever-pressing need for caffeine eventually forces him to take a break, and he’s just finished figuring out Lily’s deceptively complicated coffee maker when he hears the ding of the elevator. 

And who should step out but Serena. 

“Dan, hey,” she says tentatively. 

“Uh, hi. Sorry, if you’re looking for Lily, she left a couple hours ago. Something about a very urgent hair appointment.”

Serena smiles wryly and nods. “That does sound like her.”

He nods, too, wracking his brain for something to say. “I just made a pot of coffee, if you—”

“Coffee sounds great,” Serena’s voice jumps over his, just as eager to fill the silence. 

He’s relieved that she says yes, because it gives him something to do, and he busies himself with pouring the mugs, and setting out the soy milk and stevia that he knows she loves. But, once they’re supplied with their mugs, there is no avoiding the conversation anymore. 

“So-”

“So-” They both begin to speak at the same time, and then break off laughing at the sheer awkwardness of it all.

“You first,” she says.

He studies his mug for a minute before he starts talking. “Serena, I owe you an apology for what I said to you last spring. I was hurt, I was angry, and the things I said...I was awful to you and it wasn’t ok. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she answers, “For all of it,” she swallows nervously, “and after what I did, I kind of deserved it.”

He shakes his head and looks her in the eye. “No you didn’t. You were wrong, and I may have been pissed at you, but that doesn’t justify hurting you.”

She stares at him searchingly for a minute. She seems to see something in his gaze, because she asks: “You don’t love me anymore, do you?”

Dan is shocked by the bluntness of her question; he blinks rapidly, takes a deep breath, and finally says, “No.”

Serena bites her lip and nods, going back to staring down at her mug. 

“I mean, we are family, and you will always be a part of who I am, but,” he pauses, trying to find the right words, “but I don’t think we’re good for each other. And if I keep holding onto you—to the idea of you—for the sake of nostalgia, I,” he sighs, “I think it would just cause us both more pain.”

Serena nods again, but stays silent.

“I’m sorry,” he offers, “that’s a shitty thing to hear, but I have to be honest with you.”

She finally answers, “No, no, I get it. I do. It’s just…” she smiles weakly, “I’m not very good at letting things go.”

“I am aware.”

She huffs out a laugh, “And you, you were a very good boyfriend, and you were really, really hard to let go of.” The corners of her mouth turn down, “You taught me what safe feels like, and I hate that I did something that made you feel the opposite.”

He nods, “I appreciate you saying that.” It’s something he’s still learning: that just because a love ends doesn’t mean it was a lie, or that shouldn’t have existed to begin with. He looks at the blonde across from him, and he wonders if she’s learned it yet, if she ever will.

“So,” Serena begins tentatively, “there’s this benefit gala tonight at the Frick. I know mom and Rufus are going, but, would you like to come with me? Just as friends?”

“Serena, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He sees how she deflates, so he explains, “We’re okay, and I forgive you, but—I think I need a little more time until I can be friends. Plus,” he adds, “I think it’s best if I avoid high society things while I’m here.”

She nods in understanding, and smiles softly, a hint of sunshine breaking through. “I can respect that.”

They finish their coffee while keeping the rest of the conversation light, focused mainly on Eric and Scott, and the girl Scott is head over heels in love with. Serena tells him a bit about her travels, and he tells her about working for a fashion magazine, and Dan is relieved to find that it feels almost normal. Serena leaves soon after, there was a gala to prepare for after all, and with the conversation behind him, Dan feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> The chapter title and the song alluded to is "Once I Was" by Tim Buckley, which is of course [performed](https://youtu.be/OgyZsOGxp0s) by the incomparable Penn Badgley in Greetings from Tim Buckley, a rendition that lives rent free in my mind forever and ever amen.


	3. pour a little salt, we were never here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blair has an unexpected meeting. 
> 
> _She looks up as she ascends the steps, and there he is, like she had summoned him with the power of her memory._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh she's got a Bon Iver lyric chapter title so that means the angst is coming!
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than the previous ones, really because I wanted it to center it on just one scene ~~and bc chair does not spark joy~~

She and Serena are at 1 Oak for their standing cocktails and catchup date. Blair can’t say that they do this with any sort of regularity, Serena being constantly on the move as she is, but every time she is in town, this is their ritual: martinis and pinky swears, just like they were still seventeen. Blair often wonders which one of them needs it more. 

“My mom told me that Dan got in today,” Serena says nonchalantly, pretending like she isn’t searching Blair for a reaction. Of course, Blair had already seen the Gossip Girl blast earlier that afternoon, and so could keep up a practiced facade of indifference. She makes a noise of acknowledgement and brings her glass up to her lips. 

“The loft is occupied, so he’s staying at the penthouse,” Serena presses on, “I thought I might go over there and see him. Clear the air, you know?” For all her effort to sound casual, Blair can hear the hope fluttering in Serena’s voice.

“If that’s what you want to do,” Blair answers, in as unaffected an air as possible. She takes another sip, and sees Serena nod to herself out of the corner of her eye. 

A picture, almost a premonition, suddenly flashes through Blair’s mind: Serena, golden and glowing, in a Grecian white gown, floating down a staircase, and Dan there at the bottom, waiting for her, his face a perfect mask of patience and adoration. The image makes Blair’s stomach turn. She downs the rest of her drink and signals for another.

The next night, Blair is with Serena at the Frick, the two of them sticking together in dateless solidarity (Chuck had yet another last-minute meeting, yet another investor with cold feet). She had just finished venting about the utterly annoying new intern at Waldorf Designs when Lily comes up to say hello. 

“Serena, sweetheart, Larissa told me you stopped by while I was out, did you need anything?”

“Oh, no,” Serena demurs, “I had been hoping to raid your shoe closet for tonight, but it wasn’t anything some shopping couldn’t solve.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Blair ignores the tiny pulse of selfish triumph in her chest.

Then, Chuck materializes at her side, champagne in hand and an apology on his lips, and Blair forgets all about Dan Humphrey until the next day.

Blair takes a sip of her espresso, the heat of it lightly burning her tongue as she moves up 5th Ave. It’s been a while since she’s been able to make time to visit her favorite place, but with a week off from classes, her mother finally unclenching after the whirlwind of fashion week, and Chuck in a seemingly optimistic mood in regards to Bass Industries, Blair is finally going to get to spend an afternoon at the Met, just like old times. Or, mostly like old times. 

She goes to art museums and exhibitions alone now. She's decided to cherish them as her rare instances of “me time,” but in all honesty, she doesn’t have anyone that she can really stand to be at a gallery with. Not since Dan, anyways.

Going with him was almost like going by herself. She never had to worry about managing her time or his interest. They moved at the same pace, he never held her back or rushed her, and he was never bored by what they were seeing, not even when she’d strong-armed him into that Degas exhibition.

When she and Dan went on those field trips, it was like time stopped. Sure, she concocted all those procedures for the sake of plausible deniability, but once they were in a place she was never worried, it was like Gossip Girl didn’t exist in MOMA or the Frick or the Cloisters, she and Dan would walk amongst the art and never so much as glance at their phones. The last time Blair tried to take Chuck or Serena to an installation they had their phones out after 10 minutes.

She looks up as she ascends the steps, and there he is, like she had summoned him with the power of her memory. He’d cut his hair so that it was short on the sides again, leaving a cluster of curls at the top of his head, and he had let his beard grow in, still short, but making his features more striking, all hard lines and shadows. _He looks good_ , she thinks, taking in the familiar sight of him, novel after all of his months away. 

“Humphrey!” she calls out, forgetting all her self-imposed rules and convictions at the pleasure of seeing him. She sees him stiffen, searching around until he sees her. A surprised look flashes across his face before he controls it into a cool mask of disinterest. 

“Hi, Blair,” he says, curtly.

“I heard you were in town, figures you would check out the new Expressionists,” she says with a forced brightness. 

He nods, still stiff, staying silent. 

“I was just heading in, if you wanted to check it out together.”

“I was just on my way out actually,” he replies, his eyes flicking around, refusing to focus on her.

“Oh.” She pauses, unwilling to let him go just yet. “Well, if you want to grab a cup of coffee—”

“Blair, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he cuts her off, and starts to move away. 

“Dan, wait,” she follows him down the steps. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way it ended but...I want to be your friend again. I miss my friend.”

Dan finally meets her eyes and she’s startled by the cold anger she sees there. He sighs, exasperated. “Do you remember what I said to you at the UCB? I can’t be - Not when I—” his voice catches. He pauses, and shakes his head and takes a deep breath before saying, “I can’t see you anymore.” 

_I want more. I want_ you. Blair can still hear his voice, how sure he had sounded, his barefaced honesty always catching her off-guard. Even from the first real conversation they’d ever had, she’d marveled at it, how he could offer up a piece of himself to her like it was nothing. She hadn’t known what to do with it, all that sincerity, so she’d walked away from it. 

She’d spent too long—her entire life really—building up armor around herself, linking lies together like chain mail and calling it _plausible deniability_. She can still feel his hands cradling her face, kissing her like he couldn’t help himself, lips finding hers again and again like the tide meeting the shoreline. Her eyes fall to his mouth and she almost wishes that he would do it again. _Perfunctory_ , she had called it. She always was a good liar.

She struggles to come up with a response. Her hand comes up to fiddle with the chain she wears, a nervous habit newly developed since the summer. Dan’s eyes drift down, following the movement, and his expression shutters closed again at the sight of the ring around her neck.

“You made your choice, Blair.” he says coldly. “I don’t like it, but I am trying to respect it, so forgive me if I don’t stick around and watch.”

Blair watches him walk away, shaken.

> _Spotted: a pauper fleeing his princess. I wonder what Lonely Boy could have said to make our Queen B look so forlorn?_

When she meets him for dinner, Chuck doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask her anything, but she can tell from the turn of his mouth and the set of his shoulders and the way he dashes off to court yet another investor that he knows. 

_You bet against me every time._

For the first time in months, Blair feels like she’s failed. 

Blair moves through the next day in a fog. She defiantly goes to the temporary exhibition running at the Morgan, daring to have another run-in. Who was he to be so angry? He was the one who fucked someone else and then fucked off to Europe. 

But to be painfully honest, she knows that she was the one who left first, who walked away from what they were building and couldn’t summon the courage to tell him to his face. 

Maybe it was too much to hope that enough time had passed for them to be friends again, but she still can’t help her disappointment when she doesn’t run into him in front of a Cezanne. 

Having lost her taste for museum going for the day, she goes to the atelier. She had put in for time off that week, but still finds plenty of work to do (even if she has to create some of it for herself). 

After a few hours, her mother appears, insisting that she go home, with a conspiratorial earnestness that makes Blair immediately suspicious. But, since she has officially run out of things to do at Waldorf Designs for the day, she lets Eleanor shoo her out the door with a promise that she’ll call her mother later. 

At stepping off the elevator, Blair cannot be sure that she’s in her apartment, and not some very expensive boutique that exclusively peddles candles and peonies. 

Mystified, she follows the path set out through the foyer, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. 

Standing there, amongst even more candles and peonies, is Chuck. 

The first words he speaks are to ask for the ring around her neck. “I think I’ve kept you waiting long enough, don’t you?” he says, before kneeling at her feet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm sorry. I'm sorry.)
> 
> The remainder of this work is pretty ah-ngsty, but I promise that there is happy (and the end of chair) beyond it. 
> 
> If you've stuck with me this long--I see you and I love you.


	4. Let somebody else lay at her feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan plays guitar, eats pierogies, and has a _lot_ of feelings. 
> 
> "...all that time, all those months of what he thought was recovery felt like nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! I'm working on a couple other things (yay!) so I have a couple chapters of this that I want to crank out as quickly as I can. 
> 
> prepare for some Dan angst (Dangst?) ahead!
> 
> I am also officially pushing another headcanon agenda: Dan the guitarist! (special shout-out to Ivy AKA ivermectin, for enabling my musician!Dan agenda)

After the run-in at the Met, Dan decides to abandon the half-assed museum itinerary he’d planned while he was in town. Going to MOMA wasn’t worth reopening anymore old wounds. 

And maybe, maybe he’d gone half-hoping that he would see her, just see her, as a reminder to himself that she was real, that they had been real, and that he hadn’t uprooted his life over something that had happened only in his head. 

Be careful what you fucking wish for. 

He had looked her in the eye, and all that time, all those months of what he thought was recovery felt like nothing. In that moment, he had wanted her so badly, wanted to beg her to leave Chuck and choose him instead. But then he caught sight of that fucking ring, and his resolve crumbled as suddenly as it had appeared. He can’t keep making an ass of himself, he won’t.

Maybe that time away was good for something; he’s not sure he would have been strong enough to walk away from her a year ago. He knows he wasn’t. 

Perhaps it’s not the most mature approach, but he revises his gameplan to one activity for the day: hide with his dad. He sticks around the studio on the Lower East Side for the better part of the day, first just sitting in the booth watching Rufus work, and then when the band wraps for a break, they play. 

They play the stuff that they used to play together: the Stones, the Smiths, some Springsteen. Rufus thankfully refrains from trying any Lincoln Hawk or WHAM, and Dan coaxes him into trying some of the punk and indie he and Jenny have been pushing on him for years.

Dan’s is leading his dad through an acoustic cover of one of these punk songs when Panic returns from their break. 

“Dude, we love Gaslight!” Brendan exclaims, “Great band. _Great_ band.”

“Can you believe your producer has never heard of them?” Dan jokes, having no problem selling out his father to these guys. 

The guys let out a chorus of offended gasps. Joe clutches at his chest in horror. 

“He should!” says Matt, “We opened for them during their tour for American Slang.”

Dan’s face lights up. “No shit, really? My sister and I have been trying to get Dad to listen for years. _Years_.”

Rufus throws his hands up in defense. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry I slept on their music for so long, okay? You’re right, the songwriting is excellent.”

Sufficiently placated, the band starts to get settled in for another session, and Dan and Rufus collect themselves to move back to the booth. Then Patrick adds, “We actually cover one of their songs in our live set. You know ‘Miles Davis’?”

Dan lights up with recognition. “Yeah, that one’s amazing. My friend Vanessa and I saw them live at the Bell House in...2008 - I think?” He’s so excited by the line of conversation that he doesn’t realize when he starts to ramble. “And they were playing through that album, and they had these amazing alternate lyrics for that song - I think it was an earlier draft or something? They were so good I remember writing them down as soon as I got home because I didn’t want to forget.” He takes a breath, and realizes that the room has been watching him talk for a while. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “I’m sure we still have a bootleg recording buried in the loft somewhere, if you guys want to hear it.”

“Or,” Joe proposes, “you could play it now.”

Rufus is all but incandescent at the suggestion.

“Oh, no, come on, this is your guys’ time.”

“Please, Dan?” Patrick bats his eyes in a way that reminds Dan vividly of Jenny, “We could do it for our set tomorrow?”

Dan’s eyes travel over the faces of the men in the room, and he realizes that he doesn’t really have a choice. “Okay,” he agrees, plopping back down in his chair and picking up the acoustic he’d been playing on, “but please feel free to jump in and/or stop me.”

“Do you want this rolling?” Rufus asks excitedly as he moves back into the booth.

“What? Dad, no,” Dan starts.

“Come on, you’re not embarrassed of us are you?” Patrick asks. 

“I would be honored to be on your cutting room floor,” Dan assures him, “but this is hardly worth it.”

“I disagree,” Patrick says. Rufus nods in emphatic agreement through the glass.

Dan sighs, “Fine.”

“You’ll be great, man, I’ll back you.”

Patrick has to remind him of the chords at the beginning, but this is a song Dan has worked on before, first in his book-strewn childhood bedroom in Brooklyn, then more recently in his closet of a bedroom in King’s Cross. The lyrics (as they always do) come to him much more easily, since he’s been singing them for years. 

The afternoon kind of gets away from Dan after that. One cover turns into another, then another, and then Matt is handing him one of the electrics and the next thing he knows, he’s playing with the whole band. 

Apart from accompanying Jenny and his dad, and excepting the six weeks in the summer before eighth grade when Vanessa was dead set on being a drummer, Dan has never played music with anyone else before. 

Creating has historically been a lonely task for Dan. Writing inherently seems to require some level of solitude, even when he’s been at his most collaborative: his freshman writers group, the Roman Institute, the conference room at Vogue—none of that matches the energy of playing like this. It’s exhilarating, being a part of something so communal.

They eventually have to close the session, but Dan and Rufus take Panic out to dinner, to a diner on the Lower East Side frequented by the Humphreys over the years, the conversation moving seamlessly from one musical topic to another. 

“Did you hear them live at the…?”

“Did you know they wrote that for…?”

“How did you learn to play that…?”

Lily joins them soon after, and barely misses a beat in the discussion. 

The Humphreys eventually see the band off in a cab, but not before Patrick reminds Dan of Panic’s live show in Williamsburg the day after tomorrow. 

Later that night, Dan collapses into the luxurious guest bed in the penthouse, riding a pleasant buzz from the beer, the music, and the company. _Not a bad day of distraction, he thinks before falling asleep_. 

Dan sleeps in the next morning, and enjoys a leisurely breakfast of St. Ambroeus pastries and sharing the Times with Lily (staying on Park really did have its perks), then he lazes about and does a little bit of writing before heading over to meet Nate at his place on the Upper West Side to grab lunch. 

Nate, free due to Columbia’s spring break, meets Dan at the door to his building, and invites his friend up to give him the full tour of his new place. It’s still wildly luxurious to Dan’s Brooklynite standards, but it feels like a home—in a way that the Archibald brownstone and the Empire penthouse never did. Nate seems well suited to the Upper West Side, having grown attached from attending Columbia over the past four years. And, Dan suspects, Nate chose it as his neighborhood to settle specifically because it wasn’t the Upper East Side, a statement of his intention to not be a UES parent, to raise his kid differently. Nate doesn’t say as much, but Dan can tell from the pride in which he moves about the place. 

But eventually, the guys do have to decide on lunch; thankfully they are on the same wavelength. 

“So...Veselka?” Nate suggests at the conclusion of his tour.

“Oh god yes,” Dan agrees, can you believe I haven’t had a decent pierogi since I moved? It’s a shame, potato dishes are supposed to be the one food England is good at. You sure you don’t mind going down to the Village?”

Nate shakes his head. “Not at all. It’s been too long since I’ve been down that way, since my _best friend_ doesn’t go to school in the neighborhood anymore.”

“Aw, buddy,” Dan teases, “I missed you too.”

Nate smacks him upside the head. 

“Should we swing by Lincoln Center?” Dan asks after he ducks out of firing range, “Get your fiance to join us?”

Nate shakes his head. “She’s stuck at the office all day, sadly. Apparently Itzahk Perlman is a real diva.”

“The violinist?”

“You’re guess is better than mine, dude.”

“Well, just know that you are both invited to Panic’s gig tomorrow night,” Dan offers. “Maybe a punk show in Williamsburg is exactly the palate cleanser you need.”

“I’d have to run it by the brains of the operation, but that sounds good to me, man.”

“Dad said that you are more than welcome. And fun fact, Lincoln Hawk played there in ‘93, and there is a picture of me and my mom backstage—and she was _heavily_ pregnant.”

Nate laughs. 

Once at Veselka, Nate goes to pull a number for them, while Dan checks his phone to find a new message from Finn. 

**FB:** “Hello, darling, I just got in from Sydney—what are you up to tonight?”

 **DH:** “Ooh sorry I’m actually in NYC until Sunday.”

 **FB:** “What do you mean NYC?!”

 **DH:** “What, you’re the only one who can skip town? Sorry, you’ll have to call your backup guy.” 

**FB:** “Who says you’re not my backup, darling?”

 **DH:** “In that case, you’ll just have to get by on cold showers til I get back.”

Dan sees the ellipses bubble light up the screen for a minute, followed by:  
**FB:** “What are you wearing?”

 **DH:** “See you in a few days, Finn.”

He looks up to see Nate watching him quizzically. “What?”

“You were straight up phubbing me just now, dude.”

“Speak English, please.”

Nate rolls his eyes and explains, “Snubbing with your phone, phone-snubbing, phubbing. I know that look too, by the way, who is she?”

“Who says I have a look?” Dan asks, defensive, but it’s too late. His friend snatches the phone out of Dan’s hand and _that_ is how he comes out to Nate. 

Nate for his part is simply amused. “So...when you made me gay in your book…”

Dan snorts, “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you. Narcissist.” 

Once they’re seated and supplied with enough pierogies to feed a large Ukrainian family, Nate asks: 

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

Dan tenses, “What?”

“The reason you were on Gossip Girl again yesterday?” Nate asks, not unkindly.

Dan shakes his head. “No thanks, I’d rather hear about your problems. Shoot, Archibald.”

Nate seems grateful for the invitation, and launches into the latest update in the saga of the Upcoming Archibald. Most of it’s not new to Dan. Over the past few months he’s heard all about the Lamaze classes, the battle of wills between Nate and his mother about how he intends to raise his child, and the completely nonsensical parenting blogs, none of which seem to share consistent information or advice. 

After one such conversation, Dan talked his dad into going through the books he left in Brooklyn, to send over the literature he had bought the day after Georgina showed up at his door. He had filled the margins with notes, too, all the information properly vetted. Dan had joked that he had finally paid Nate back for all those SAT prep books. 

The topic of this week: Anne Archibald wanted to throw a baby shower, which meant Nate and Addie had spent most of last weekend building a registry (“There was so much _stuff_ , man, we were both cross-eyed by the time we got home”).

Dan listens to it all, nods when he should, and laughs and makes jokes when Nate needs him to bring in some levity. Though he knows how overwhelming all of it can be, Dan can tell that Nate is really happy, and truly looking forward to being a father. Dan never would have guessed that Nate would be the one to get there first, but he’s happy for his best friend. 

After lunch, Nate takes the six back up with Dan, since he has to see his mom about this baby shower anyway. They get to the van der Humphrey building, and Dan stops cold when he sees who’s in the lobby. 

If it were just Lily and Serena, it would have been fine, but it’s who they’re talking to that has Dan frozen. 

It doesn’t take long for Dan to ascertain the reason for Chuck-and-Blair, Blair-and-Chuck’s visit. 

That fucking ring could be seen from space, so it’s pretty easy to clock on Blair’s finger from the other end of the lobby. Through the roaring in his ears, he catches a few words of the conversation: “Last night...proposed...romantic…”

Dan turns on his heel and walks away. He feels a hand on his shoulder—Nate’s, he guesses—and shrugs it off. 

“Dan. You okay?” His friend asks, his voice serious. 

_Nope_. “Yeah, yeah it’s fine. Fine. I just -“ Dan turns to Vanya, still at the door. “Is it cool if I take the service elevator up?”

Vanya, who’s seen many an Upper-Eastsider meltdown—none of them as polite as Dan’s—doesn’t bat an eye, and quickly directs the men in the right direction. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nate offers, his forehead creased with concern. 

“No, man, it’s fine. Go. You have a baby shower to save from Anne’s clutches, remember?”

Nate doesn’t look at all convinced, but he goes, promising to call later. 

Once on the elevator, Dan lets out a deep breath, and realizes that he’s shaking. He can’t be sure, but he swears that for a split second, Chuck had looked right at him. 

The penthouse is thankfully empty when he arrives, Lily still supposedly in the lobby. 

Dan paces the length of the living room, trying to get a hold of himself. He feels like he did that night at the Campbell Apartment, untethered, wrought open, nerve endings exposed. 

He knew, on an intellectual level, that something like this was bound to happen. He had suspected it, even before seeing her the other day, before Rome, before _them_ , even. He had seen it coming since the day he cold-cocked Chuck in the lobby of Lennox Hill, where the asshole had been standing with Blair, clutching a jewelry box behind his back. 

He knew it was coming, but having to see it happen was a different thing entirely.

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Why can’t he be fucking free of this already?

His first instinct is to run away, hop on a train or bus back north to Boston, or better, go straight to JFK and get on the first flight to London. But he doesn’t. He’ll push through these next two days as best as he can, then he can go back home. He will have Finn fuck him senseless, he will finish writing this new novel, he will get in to grad school, and he will let Blair go. If he says it to himself enough maybe he’ll actually believe it. 

His deluded mantra calms him somewhat, enough to catch his breath, enough to get a handle on himself, and figure out what to immediately do next. 

He texts Jenny. 

It was an old standby from when they were teenagers, back when he was supposedly the reliable one. _If things get too weird, call me._ They had drifted away from that tactic for a few years, but it became a routine when they started living together again. At the pub, at Vogue House or Jenny’s atelier, at parties or dates (or Dan’s not-dates): _If things get too weird, text me._

Jenny calls him back immediately. She doesn’t pry, or ask about his message, she just opens with, “Do you want to hear the absolute batshit thing the assistant designer said at work today?”

He lets out a shaky laugh, “Always.”

Dan can’t help but feel guilty in leaning on his sister for this particular problem, given her history, however much she’s insisted that it’s okay. Still, the cadence of Jenny’s voice as she talks about unrelated office nonsense is grounding, it places him back in the present, reminds him of the life and the future he’s building across the ocean, where the problems of New York City seem much smaller. 

He retreats back up to his dad’s office for the rest of the day, playing through Lily’s lead sheet library, and texting back and forth with Jenny and Nate. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s okay, but it’s something at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Notes on the music: The song & band they talk about is "Miles Davis and the Cool" by The Gaslight Anthem. (the [acoustic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSQJTTFUj3U) & the [alt lyrics version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pE_SJvfZ4bQ)). Their frontman is one of my favorite songwriters of ever, and so many of his lyrics are pure Dan Humphrey (to me at least, this is wholly self-indulgent headcanoning). While writing this chapter I also listened to [this rendition of "1930"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nThxJJifGI4) and [this one of "She Loves You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwYEC-wNL7s) A Lot. Like, just listen to the lyrics and think of Dair and WEEP. 
> 
> And, the chapter title is from their song ["45"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oST77VRHXt0)


	5. Like a window in your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan steps out of his comfort zone on his last day in New York City.
> 
> _Music and waffles: the Rufus Humphrey cures for heartache. Dan supposes he might as well give them a try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the music-making Humphreys are very important to me, and that is entire point of this chapter, tbh.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title is a line from "Graceland" by Paul Simon  
> Losing love is like a window in your heart  
> Everybody sees you're blown apart  
> Everybody sees the wind blow

Dan emerges late from his room the next morning to another veritable smorgasbord of breakfast foods. Rufus’ love language has always been feeding people; Dan knows this because he is the exact same way. When Jenny was in a fight with her girlfriend two months ago, Dan’s knee-jerk reaction was to make her their mom’s mac and cheese recipe (it had worked, to his credit).

Rufus watches him carefully, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Any chance there’s chocolate chips in those waffles?”

His dad grins. “You know it. Help yourself, son.”

Dan does, still feeling Rufus’ eyes on him as he fills up his plate.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” his dad finally asks, gently.

Dan sighs, “Not really.”

Rufus nods, “Well in case you do…”

“I know, I know, thanks, Dad, it’s just -“ he pauses, staring down at his plate, “Look, I’m flying out tomorrow, so I’m just...trying to enjoy my time and not dwell on anything...unpleasant.” His father looks unconvinced.

“Well, if you’re looking for a distraction,” his dad offers, “the guys invited you to play in their set tonight.” Dan’s eyes widen with fear, so Rufus adds, “No pressure, but if you said yes, you wouldn’t have to play anything new from what you all worked on the other day. And it would mean getting out of Manhattan for most of the day.”

Dan thinks about it for a minute, that afternoon in the studio, how it had felt to play with Panic, to be a part of something outside himself. “I’ll do it,” he decides. “What’s Patrick’s number?”

Rufus grins wide. 

Dan texts the band, and they go over their set list and the covers they’d like Dan to jump in on. He is actually looking forward to it, but he’ll see how he feels when he sees the size of the crowd tonight.

Music and waffles: the Rufus Humphrey cures for heartache. Dan supposes he might as well give them a try.

A few hours later, Dan is in Williamsburg. He’d gone down there earlier that afternoon with his dad for Panic’s sound check, then they had grabbed a bite before returning to the venue.

Now, Rufus and Panic are busy doing music business things, and Lily is around somewhere with her photojournalist gameface on. Concertgoers are starting to trickle in for the opening act, and Dan is seated at the bar, waiting for Nate and Addison to arrive. 

“Hey,” he says brightly when he spots them coming in, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting us out,” Nate says with a grin. “People think we’re too boring nowadays to invite us to a punk show.”

Addison nods in agreement. “And this is just what my soul needs after work this week, so thank you.” She hops—only mildly ungracefully—onto the stool to Dan’s left, Nate having to steady her a bit. “Though,” she muses, “tonight will be the first time I’ve been sober in one of these places.”

Nate and Dan both laugh. “Hopefully the music’s good enough that you don’t feel the need to drink,” Dan quips. 

“If it’s not, I’m holding all you Humphreys personally responsible.” 

Nate chuckles, then blinks in shock. “Whoa, is it just me or is the sight of Lily in jeans a little bit disturbing?”

Addison and Dan’s heads swivel to see Lily, still very fashionably put together, but as casual as they’ve ever seen her, clad in denim and leather, and armed with a serious-looking professional camera. 

“I mean, they are still designer.” He glances over to see Nate and Addie staring at him, perplexed. He shrugs, “I work at Vogue, remember?”

Nate chuckles and shakes his head. “Things I never thought I’d hear Dan Humphrey say…”

Dan shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “How about you, Addison? I heard talk of a rough time at the office.”

She groans dramatically, slumping down onto her arms atop the bar. “You have no idea.” She sits up enough to tiredly prop her face up with one hand, “Who knew a world class violinist could be such a dick?”

The guys both laugh. “Perlman, right? That’s what Nate said.”

“Mmmm,” she confirms with a small nod, “and the man had a demand and/or opinion on _everything._ ”

“Ah, but is he good enough to warrant his attitude?” Dan asks jokingly. 

“I certainly don’t think so,” Addison grumbles.

Nate rubs her back soothingly. “The only thing I know about that guy is that he gave Nelly Yuki her first violin, remember her?”

“Yeah, the last time I saw her was at your high school grad party, and she told me she had a crush on me.”

Nate crows with laughter, “I didn’t know that! That’s crazy! Actually, wait,” he holds up his hand, still giggling, “no, I like you two together.”

“Ha ha,” Dan replies sarcastically, “before you get any millionaire matchmaker ideas just know that I am done with dating for the time being.”

Nate and Addie exchange a look. Nate looks like he’s about to say something more when out of nowhere—

“Danny!”

“Uh, Ruby, hi!” Dan answers, stunned, “I didn’t know you were playing tonight.”

“Yep, we’re the opener,” she says cheerfully. “It’s so good to see you!” she hugs him tightly, then smacks him hard upside the head. “That’s for breaking my baby sister’s heart.”

Dan rubs the back of his head gingerly, “Fair enough, I guess.”

“She tore up that check you sent her,” she says gravely, eyebrows arched. Dan would never say it (out of fear of getting hit again) but with that expression, Ruby looks a frightening amount like her mother. 

“Yeah I figured.”

Ruby greets Nate and Addison warmly, but much less violently than she had Dan before she has to head backstage. 

Addison is thoroughly entertained by the entire exchange, “Okay so catch me up, who was that person?”

Nate explains, “Remember I told you about my ex, Vanessa? That’s her sister, the—”

“The one with the lesbian punk band, yes,” Addison finishes, nodding in understanding. “Nate Archibald, you really do have friends in all five boroughs don’t you?”

“Nate makes friends everywhere he goes,” Dan comments. “It’s his best and worst quality.”

“Hey,” Nate says, a little hurt.

“Awww, I think it’s a good thing,” Addison rests her chin on his shoulder looking at him soppily. 

Nate smiles down at her, equally as soppily, then turns to look at Dan sharply, “You sent Vanessa a check?”

Dan shrugs, “Yeah, a few months ago.” Nate’s eyebrows raise. “Because she submitted _Inside_ ,” he explains, “I didn’t like feeling like I owed her.”

Nate shakes his head with a chuckle, “Dude, you had to know that would piss her off.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dan sighs, and takes another pull of his beer. 

There’s a brief awkward silence, until Addison asks, “So...Danny?”

Nate’s face crumples with suppressed laughter.

“Please don’t,” Dan begs.

As the audience begins to grow, the three of them stake a claim on a table a ways away from the stage, giving them some breathing room from the crowd that’s bound to form at the bar. Nate checks in with his fiance, but Addison seems relatively comfortable—well, as comfortable as any woman at the end of her second trimester can be—and in good spirits, eager for something different after the cavalcade of classical music at her job this week.

Ruby’s band is good, as they always are, and the guys both amuse Addie by singing along to some of their older songs. There was a time when Dan had their whole set memorized, but the lesbian punks have written some new songs now, with lyrics he doesn’t know. In a flood of nostalgia, he misses Vanessa. Not his ex-girlfriend Vanessa, but his old best friend Vanessa, his former comrade in arms.

There’s a brief interlude after the opener while the crew sets the stage for Panic to go on, Lily comes by to say hello and have a drink, but when the lights go down again she disappears back into the crowd, camera in hand.

Panic takes the stage, and they open their set with one of the songs Dan had heard them record just two days ago. Even if he hadn’t known them, Dan would like them just by the energy of how they play live.

Once Panic gets halfway through the set Dan can’t put off slipping away any longer.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he tells Nate in between numbers.

“Wha-? Dude, it’s the middle of the show,” his friend objects.

“I know, I know, I’ll just - I’ll be right back.” Dan doesn’t explain where he’s going. If he tries, he knows his nerves will get the better of him.

Once backstage, his dad finds him and hands him the acoustic he’ll be playing from. Rufus claps him on the shoulder and sends him forward with a “Knock ‘em dead, son.”

“So,” Patrick announces after the end of a song, lifting the strap over his head to set his guitar aside, “we’ve been recording this album in New York for the past couple weeks, and it’s been great.” There’s a smattering of cheers from the crowd. “And we’ve gotten to make some music with one cool guy in particular, Brooklyn’s own Dan Humphrey, everybody!” A few more cheers sound as Dan takes his cue to come onstage.

“Now,” Patrick continues, “we’ve got a couple covers we're gonna do for you tonight with our new best friend Dan, and there’s this one particular song,” he sneaks a glance over at Dan, who’s now plugged in and checking the tuning, “that we had to do purely for the title alone. This is by a guy called Frank Turner,” cheers and whoops of recognition, “and it’s called ‘Dan’s Song.’”

Dan plays the introductory chord, and then they’re off, Patrick launching into the first verse with Dan accompanying him.

Me and my friend Dan are going to get some beers and then  
We're going to go down to the park and drink them there.

When they get to the bridge, Patrick breaks out the harmonica with such enthusiasm that it makes Dan almost double over from laughing, but he plays through it. Towards the end of the bridge, when it becomes apparent that Patrick is not going to arrive on the next verse in time, he motions Dan up to the mic, and Dan’s singing the start of the next verse before he has time to think about it. 

We listen to these heartbreak songs when nothing’s really wrong.  
Then we smile when we’re asked and we say that we’re fine.

Then Patrick jumps back in, and Dan lets him lead them through the end of the song. It isn’t until he finishes the last chord and hears the cheering below that he remembers he’s onstage at a punk show.

“So, Dan, will you stay on and play another cover with us?” Patrick asks into the mic after the crowd quiets down, like the offer is spontaneous.

“I’d love to,” Dan answers with confidence he does not feel.

One of the stage hands comes over, and he trades out the acoustic for a freshly-tuned, familiar-looking beat-up Fender. Dan’s dad is such a sap.

Dan, as a rule, hates being up in front of crowds. During promotional events for his book, he hid on the sidelines as long as he could manage until Alessandra dragged him into the spotlight. The last time Dan was up in front of a crowd this size, he was drunk and speaking into a karaoke mic at a rooftop NYU party. He credits his courage that night entirely to the keg. He wishes he could be that drunk now, if it would make him less nervous. But then Joe counts them in, and he starts to play, and everything else falls away. And when it’s time, Patrick doesn’t have to trick him in front of the mic, he just steps up and sings.

Miles Davis, bring me to The Cool  
In this dull aching night, in this restless room...

He manages to slink back to the table where Nate and Addie are stationed just after Panic finishes the set. Addison gives him an elegant golf-clap round of applause, while Nate just gapes at him, open-mouthed.

“Who even _are_ you?” he asks, mystified. 

Dan just laughs and steals the beer out of his hand.

The whole family sleeps in the next day, and sends Dan off with one final brunch. Eric comes down from Sarah Lawrence, but Serena is conspicuously absent. It was just as well: Dan knew he needed a little more time and space, and he didn't really want to have to make conversation with Serena following the Lobby Incident.

Rufus, Lily, and Dan all give Eric a report of the show last night, and Dan’s cameo, to which Eric decrees: “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

“I may have some up my sleeve,” Lily replies cryptically between sips of her mimosa, making Eric and Rufus laugh and Dan grimace. 

After brunch, Rufus and Eric ride with Dan to JFK to give him a proper goodbye.

“See you at graduation?” Dan asks while hugging his father.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” his dad replies.

Lily had surreptitiously upgraded his flight, and while he still feels awkward accepting too many trappings from his stepfamily’s luxurious way of life, he can’t deny that he’s grateful for the extra comfort of first class on this transatlantic flight. He settles into the comfy seat and extra leg room, and puts on one of the movies he has downloaded at random. He falls asleep sometime after take off, listening to Jimmy Stewart go on about a six foot tall rabbit.

A few hours later, he’s landed in London and thinks, _It’s good to be home._

After getting through baggage check and customs, Dan checks the time. It’s late, but not too late, and so he makes a decision, needing to do one impulsive, quite possibly stupid thing after the craziness of the past week. He dashes off two texts, one to Finn, one to Jenny.

 **DH:** You free?

 **FB:** As a bird, darling

 **DH:** Be there in 30

**DH:** I’ve landed. I’m alive. Headed to Finn’s.

 **JH:** Then the rager continues! Tell Darling I say hi

Finn opens the door with a Cheshire Cat smirk on his face. “Miss me, darling?”

“Oh shut up,” Dan answers, pulling Finn in by the nape of his neck to crush the man’s mouth to his. 

Some time later, Dan slumps back against Finn’s chest, spent. They stay like that for a while, catching their breath, Dan sprawled across the other man’s lap, until he can muster the energy to move and clean himself up.

When Dan emerges from the bathroom, Finn eyes sweep over him, still lounging on the armchair, and then he asks, voice ringing through the silence of the room:

“Chinese or Indian?”

“I don’t know, I should probably head home.” Dan starts searching for his clothes strewn about the room. He manages to find his briefs and tug them on. 

Finn shakes his head firmly. “Darling, you’ve just been on a plane for six hours, you should at least sleep and eat something. The last thing either of us needs is for you to have a drop on the tube home.”

Dan can’t really argue with that, but he bristles anyway, hating the feeling of seeming too needy. He keeps looking for his clothes, unwilling to give in. Finn gets to his jeans before he does, and is already half dressed himself, when he holds them out to Dan. “Chinese or Indian?” he asks again. 

Dan’s eyes narrow in challenge as he snatches his jeans back. “Thai,” he answers. 

Finn snorts, “Fair enough.” He heads over to his phone on the other side of the room, smacking Dan on the ass as he goes. 

“Asshole,” Dan grumbles as he gets dressed. 

“That’s why you like me, darling.”

Dan gets back to his place around noon the next day, rumpled and a little sore, but much more relaxed than he had been all week.

Jenny is sketching on the couch when he gets in. “Mail came for you,” she says nonchalantly.

Dan freezes. His head shoots up, “Mail, as in, a giant intimidating packet mail, or a small sad envelope of rejection?”

“It’s on the kitchen counter,” she sing-songs.

He dashes over to look, and he sees it, the “Oxford” embossed on the return address label. He lets out a deep breath. “Oh, so it is a big packet.”

“Hell yeah it is,” his sister calls from her post on the couch.

He tears open the envelope with shaking hands, pulls out the enclosed folder, and there it is, printed in black and white.

“I got in,” he breathes, then calls out a little louder, “Jen!”

“What?!” she yells back, matching his volume.

“I got in.”

Jenny shrieks, “I knew it!” And then she’s grabbing at his shoulders, jumping up and down. Dan laughs at his little sister’s infectious enthusiasm, and let’s the elation settle over him. He’s going to grad school. To fucking _Oxford._

Take that, St. Jude’s.

Jenny stops her bouncing and pulls out her phone. “I’m calling Mari, because we should celebrate - oh!” she slaps him on the arm, “We have to call Mom and Dad!”

“Jen, it’s like 5 am over there and we are far too old to walk them up that early anymore.”

“Fine, then I will buy you lunch! Oh, but you should shower first, you smell like airplane and bad decisions.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but complies. His sister did have a point. 

When he gets out of the shower, he sees that Dr. Phillips just sent him an email welcoming him to the program, and for the first time all week, he feels hopeful about his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Notes on the music: the second [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pE_SJvfZ4bQ) Dan plays with the band was referenced last chapter, but the [first](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MtRBsMqt1N8) I could not resist throwing in ("Dan's Song" _I meeeean_ ) It's by another fave songwriter of mine, Frank Turner.
> 
> The next chapters are plotted and planned, one for Dan, one for Blair, but I cannot guarantee when they'll be up. I am putting the finishing touches on another au I've been working on that I am super excited to share but it may be a couple weeks until my next posting. Until then, if you're still reading, you are awesome and I love you and thank you for checking this little ol fic out!


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